


Leaving New York

by Jellymish



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Letter, One Shot, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:03:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13244967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellymish/pseuds/Jellymish
Summary: On the cross-atlantic boat trip back to London, Newt Scamander finds out that writing letters isn't as easy as it seems.





	Leaving New York

Newt sat at his desk, which was tucked away safely in a corner of his suitcase, staring at a blank piece of paper. His quill lay beside him, untouched. He’d been sitting in that exact position for almost thirty minutes, still as a statue. The only thing which betrayed his status as one of the living was the slight movement of his frame as he breathed.  
  
Why was it so difficult? Usually, he would sit down at his desk, pick up his quill and the words would come. They’d just come. It wasn’t difficult to him. What he admittedly lacked in spoken communication skills, he made up with a formidable control over the written word. Usually, but not today. Today was different, wasn’t it? Usually, he wrote about creatures, his one true passion in life. Those were magizoological words, words from his mind. What he was trying to write now were words from his heart. And that was the difficulty he couldn’t seem to overcome.  
  
Letters and books were not the same thing, were they?  
  
Finally, a sigh escaped Newt’s mouth and he buried his head in his hands. How could he even attempt to put into words all the things he was feeling? He was in a suitcase on a ship that was taking him away from three of the most important people in his life right now. It almost made him feel like there was nothing waiting for him back home, even though there were many things to get back to. Work, first and foremost, family, a book that was waiting to be published. He had obligations. But right at this moment, they didn’t seem as important. His heart was aching to turn this ship around and head back, all duties forgotten.  
  
Newt sighed again. He let his hands fall and once again stared at the letter yet to be written. He’d been miserable all day. Of course his creatures had picked up on it and had tried their best to cheer him up, especially Dougal. Newt had appreciated it, but there were some things even they couldn’t help with. At the same time, Newt knew that this couldn’t go on for long. His creatures needed him and he couldn’t spend his days sulking. He also couldn’t keep all these feelings inside. He knew from experience that ignoring them would just make it worse.  
  
So, since he didn’t really have anyone to talk to, he’d decided to write a letter. Maybe explaining it all in written form would help. That reminded him, he had a suitcase full of creatures, but he didn’t actually own an owl… He’d have to find some other way to send it after arriving in London…  
  
Suddenly, Newt shook his head, feeling a sense of annoyance at himself. „All right, enough of that,“ he murmured, pulling himself out of his reverie and straightening up, „If you don’t write this now, you’ll still be sitting here in three day’s time and nobody wants that. Least of all you.“ He picked up his quill, scooped up some ink and started writing.  
  
_My dearest Tina,_  
  
Newt stopped and squinted at the words, pressing his lips together. Was that wording a little… too familiar? After all, they’d only known each other for a week or so and he wasn’t sure if this came across as too presumptuous. Then again, quite a lot had happened. No, that was an understatement, it was hard to grasp how much truly _had_ happened. One wouldn’t think it possible in such short an amount of time.  
  
So maybe he was just being a fusspot. All the same, Newt picked up his wand and, with a flick of his wrist, erased his words from the paper. Then he tried once more.  
  
_Dearest Tina,_  
  
Again, he paused and scrutinized the words in front of him. This sounded much better. Familiar, but not to the point of inadequacy. Nodding in satisfaction, Newt plunged his quill into the inkwell and continued writing.  
  
_Dearest Tina,_  
  
_Although we only just uttered our goodbyes, I find myself with the rather persisting wish to write this letter to you. It may come across as a curious thing to do, but I assure you it is not my intention to impose myself upon you. My reasoning behind all of this is that I cannot help but feel a sense of regret regarding our parting words. You see, there are people with a certain wit about them who have the ability to convey exactly what they mean to say, without much effort or care. I am not one of them. Although my grasp on the written word is quite solid, the intricacy of speech eludes me. And so, I can never seem to utter the right words, even and especially when I feel the need to. Perhaps this letter will clear up the many things I failed to put into words._  
  
_Up until recently, I believed that I needed no one. I believed that I could live my life in isolation, to be responsible for only myself and my creatures. I wished to be as far away from everyone else as I could. Had you asked me then if I was ever lonely, I would have told you that I wasn’t. I have my creatures, after all, I would tell you. And in many ways, my creatures have always brought me more solace and love than most people have. I am never truly alone, for they are always with me and believe you me when I say that they are the most gentle and giving creatures one could ever meet. I would not trade them for anything. No, with my creatures by my side, I am never alone._  
  
_But being alone and being lonely isn’t the same, is it?_  
  
_Just as the bowtruckle needs to be surrounded by its own kind to thrive, humans are not made to live a solitary existence. We are social creatures. Without contact to members of our own kind, we wither. I used to believe that I was the exception to that rule. Perhaps it’s easier to consider oneself different from everybody else, rather than admitting to one’s own suffering. In fact, Queenie saw it before I even realized it myself. Maybe I was hurt by one too many people. Maybe that is the reason why, even though I know better now, I keep trying to tell myself that I need no one._  
  
_Of course, this is an utterly nonsensical thought, because it couldn’t be further from the truth. I was so lonely and I failed to even realize it, until I experienced what it was like not to feel that way. And now, I never want to go back to feeling that way._  
  
_Tina, what I told you as we stood by the docks was not just a passing thought. I have changed. You, Queenie and Jacob, you all changed me for the better. And as I sit in my study and wait for the journey home to pass, I realize just how much it pains me to leave New York. Because leaving New York means leaving you. This case, despite all its inhabitants, has never felt so empty. It’s funny, it didn’t take long for me to get used to seeing your faces around. But maybe that’s good. I’ve finally got someone I can miss. And who hopefully misses me back._  
  
_Tina, I will keep my promise. As soon as I hold the first copy of my book in my hands, I will be heading your way. I am aware that I am probably not supposed to come back to New York any time soon, but what Madame President doesn’t know, isn’t going to hurt her. Or Mrs. Esposito for that matter. Until then, I trust you will never leave my thoughts._  
  
_Oh yes, and please send Queenie my love. I trust she’s already making sure that Jacob is all right. I hope his bakery is a success. And finally, Tina, knowing you has been and will continue to be a privilege to me. From the bottom of my heart, I wish you well._  
  
_Until next time,_  
_Newt Scamander._  
  
After finishing his signature with a flourish, Newt set his quill to the side and leaned back in his chair with a long exhale of air. He wiped a hand over his face, gave a quiet sniff and then, blinking as if he had something in his eye, he picked up the letter. Suddenly, he felt the tiniest of taps on his elbow. Newt looked down and spotted the little culprit. „Pickett, what…? You were supposed to stay with your brothers and sisters. I thought we talked about this.“  
  
He tried to pick up the little bowtruckle, but Pickett swiftly moved to the side and grabbed ahold of Newt’s thumb. Glaring up at his carer, he wrapped his arms around the appendage and hugged it tightly. Newt sighed. „Now come on, Pickett, I’m all right“ he said quietly, „Don’t you worry about a thing.“  
  
The response was an insistent squeak. Pickett didn’t move an inch, he only hugged Newt’s thumb tighter. Finally, Newt let a little smile creep onto his face. „All right, thank you for the hug, Pickett, but I need my thumb back,“ he said, lifting Pickett up onto the back of his other hand, where the bowtruckle finally let go. He sat there, staring at Newt with a defiant posture. Newt sighed again. „Look, I’m just a little sad because I had to leave my friends, that’s all. Just need some time. No need to be a worrywart.“  
  
That statement seemed to finally be enough for Pickett. Newt gently guided his hand to his shoulder so the little creature could comfortably climb on top of it. Immediately, Pickett scuttled over to newt’s neck and stretched his little arms along it as best he could. He was still trying to give Newt a hug.  
  
Smiling genuinely at this point, Newt gave Pickett a little pat on his twig head and stood up. „Come on then, let’s see what the others are up to.“


End file.
